


Showtime

by wecara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drama kids, I wrote this in like a day, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Theater AU, itsfirstpersonimsosorrybutpleasereadit, literally no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecara/pseuds/wecara
Summary: A tiny drabble I wrote in one night in which Harry and Draco audition for a play.





	Showtime

     “I wanted to run away, but to run away you need a motive. My only motive was the desire to flee. I had no real intent or purpose, which was perhaps the reason for my marvelous plan’s downfall. Oh, and marvelous it was. Undeniably the most elaborate, foolproof, badass plan I’ve ever hatched. People would have caught word of its execution and thought, ‘Yep, that Harry sure was a mastermind.’ I could have been revered for centuries to come as the greatest escape artist in all time, having brand new laws and punishments named after me in order to cover every weak spot in this pitiful excuse for a government that I exploited.”

     I steal a glance at Hermione, hoping to glean some encouragement from a moment of eye contact, but her bushy hair is covering her face as she scribbles notes on a yellow notebook like her life depends on it. Sigh. At least I know I’ll later have the opportunity to pour over her notes and relive every mistake I made during this audition and torture myself for it every day until I die.

     “Of course,” I continue, mentally chiding myself. Get a grip, Harry. It’s showtime. “I can’t expect someone as feeble-minded as _you_ to understand. After all, you’re here too. This means that undoubtedly you did something shitty in a shitty enough manner to get caught. So what’s your excuse? Go on, let me have it. I’m not one to shy away from big scary words.” Deep breath. Okay, now is the time that God gets to test me.

     “ _Oh,_ ” Fuck. Jesus fucking bitchass Christ. His putrid drawl is somehow harder to endure today than usual. Draco stands up from the white cell bench (a painted prop box) he’d been sitting on previously, and I have to swallow an insult as a few strands from his ‘edgy’ bangs drip in front of his stale blue eyes. “I bet you think you’re a whole lot better than everyone else just because we just happened to be caught earlier than you did. Tell me, Harry was it? What exactly were you fleeing from?”

     The elongated groan I now force down my throat both tastes and feels like that time I ate an entire lemon in less than ten seconds on a dare. In case you couldn’t guess, it was extremely unpleasant. My next lines (‘You seem like a somewhat intelligent person, so I’ll humor you. I wanted to flee from the chokehold my father had over my every waking moment, from the way I sat to the way I spoke to the way I cried’) attempt to float from my brain, through my vocal chords, and off my practiced tongue, but that stupid lemon must’ve gotten in the way because what I say next is nowhere even close.

     “Well, mister smartass, I seem to have forgotten already because a whole different urge to flee has suddenly overtaken me. I never could have prepared myself for this hell on earth the cell guards have decided to put me through by forcing me to share a cell with such an entitled, bratty, fake-edgelord such as yourself. Please, god, if thou hast any mercy left in thy heart for a fool such as I, deliver me from the presence of this bastard and perhaps instead throw me into a vat of boiling oil as an alternative punishment. No affliction can be worse than this”

     I keep comebacks like that in my cheek, readily available at all times. This means they usually tumble into the air without warning unless I’m straining to keep them in. It is very hard to keep them in while around Draco. It is also very hard for Draco to keep his in while around me, so I am unsurprised--though very disappointed--when he counters me as easily as if this brawl were all part of our memorized script.

     “Oh enlightened one, I was just thinking the same thing! I feel unworthy to be in the presence of someone so astute as you, a more fitting place for me would probably be a sewer amongst my brethren, the filthy snakes. Unless you, great pompous coward, have some better location in mind?” Damn it. It’s such a shame we both went to bible camp _and_ theater camp until freshman year, I can’t use any of my theatrical olde-timey jargon on him to make myself seem superior. During Draco’s infuriatingly eloquent speech he sank to his knees with one hand over his heart and the other waving his fingers, covered in chipped black nail polish, in my face. He wears an antagonizing smirk and indignant glimmer in his steely eyes that makes my blood boil.

     “Don’t you dare call me a coward, you putrid pile of filth!” I cry, swatting his hand away and gripping his collar. I immediately realize I’m in too deep. The next logical step would be to lift him by his shirt and send him flying through a wall, but the 6 foot 3 mammoth of a man would be impossible for me to lift by only his collar. I also can’t just let go and stand back up, that would take away from the dramatic flair, and I think we both realized long ago that if we keep up the eloquence we might be able to pass this skirmish off as extremely clever improvisation. Now I’m just stuck bent over his dumb creamy white face as his smirk transitions into something much colder and scheming.

     “Or what?” Draco asks, cocking an eyebrow. The room goes silent, even Hermione’s erratic scrawling has taken a pause. “What will happen if I do?”

     Oh no. I shouldn’t have chosen wit as my weapon against him, he’s obviously much more cunning than me. He’s set me up! Any decent actor can feel the carefully balanced dramatic tension in this silence, and it doesn’t take a detective to understand that if I don’t do something big _right now,_ the tension will grow stale. The line we’ve drawn so tightly will go slack, and neither of us will get what we want. The audition will be ruined.

     “For fuck’s sake!” I cry, launching myself at him, my free hand raised. Instead of striking him, however strong my urges are to do so, I tangle it roughly in his stupid soft blond hair and pull him towards me, smashing our lips together. I feel him go rigid against me and a wave of satisfaction surges through me. Ha ha, take that Draco! I _can_ be unexpected and tricky! Suddenly his hands reach up to my face, and he’s pulling me closer. Shit, he actually feels really nice. 

     We melt together, and the crowd roars.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo it's pretty OOC for Harry but idk I like it so I wanted to share. Thanks for reading, I'm working on a longer fic right now but it'll be my first multi chapter fic! This is my first work on AO3 so criticism is very much appreciated. Thanks again!


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